


What Spring Does with the Cherry Trees

by LyricaXXX (LyricaB)



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Lewis Challenge Spring Flash 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricaB/pseuds/LyricaXXX
Summary: A smile of delight tugging at the corners of his mouth, Robbie turned back to James.James’s extraordinary eyes were bright and sparkling, but he wasn’t looking at the rowsof cherry trees or the incredible blooms. James was looking at him.





	What Spring Does with the Cherry Trees

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _Written for[Lewis Challenge](https://lewis-challenge.dreamwidth.org/) Spring Flash 2019, Day 1._   
>    
>  _Prompt: a beautiful photo of cherry trees in full blossom._   
>    
> 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


>     My words rained over you, stroking you.  
>     A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.  
>     I go so far as to think that you own the universe.  
>     I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,  
>         dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.  
>     I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.  
>                                                             _~Every Day You Play_ , Pablo Neruda

 

The heavy iron gate gave a deep groan of protest as Robbie pushed it open. He stepped through, then stopped so abruptly that James walked into his back.

James huffed out a complaint that faltered halfway through his sentence and became instead a note of admiration that ruffled Robbie’s hair. 

Despite them having been cleared in advance by no less than the Lady of the manor to interview a handful of the estate’s employees, the security guard at the main gate had insisted that he and James park and walk the rest of the way into the estate. _‘No one but family is allowed to drive in,’_ the officious little man with the clipboard had insisted. 

Now, Robbie was glad he and James had simply sighed in annoyance and parked, then walked as directed, along the high, curving, brick wall to the ‘guest entrance’. Ahead of him, a cobbled pavement, straight as an arrow and swept cleaner than Robbie’s kitchen floor, pointed the way to the main house. And it was lined with cherry trees in full bloom. 

James made another sound, something between a rumble of appreciation and a gravelly ‘Wow!’, and Robbie nodded in agreement. “That’s a sight you don’t see every day,” he said. “Never seen this many cherry trees in one place except in pictures.”

“I’ve heard whispers about them.” James’s tone was hushed and throaty with awe. “I’ve heard they have one gardener who does nothing all year but tend the trees. But the family doesn’t allow the public here, so not many people know about them. Or get to see them.” 

“Pity.” Dazzled by the lavish display, Robbie walked slowly forward. “And bloody selfish.” 

Underneath the branches heavy with pink blossoms, the light was different, muted and warm, tender as a blush. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and the flowers quivered and sighed. The petals rippled and branches swayed, creating dancing patches of sunlight on the ruddy stone pavement and exposing slivers of bright blue sky overhead. 

A smile of delight tugging at the corners of his mouth, Robbie turned back to James. James’s extraordinary eyes were bright and sparkling, but he wasn’t looking at the rows of trees or the incredible blooms. James was looking at him. 

Warmth and pleasure flushed through Robbie. It was still so strange and new—this thing between them. On the one hand, it felt as if it was only an extension of what they’d always been together. Just the natural progression of what he’d always felt for James. And yet…it still sometimes shocked him, to turn and see James looking at him like that. To realize anew that someone so smart and witty, so wonderful—someone who looked like _that_ —would want him. 

James took a step towards him, hand reaching out for Robbie’s hand, and then he spoiled the whole thing by wheeling away and sneezing violently. “Bloody h—” He fumbled inside his jacket and came up with a crumpled tissue just as he sneezed again. And again. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly as he searched for another tissue. “Guess I’m allergic to cherry tr—.” He just managed to find another tissue as he sneezed yet again. And then again. 

“Well, that’s romance out the proverbial door.” Robbie grinned as James pressed his finger beneath his nose to prevent another sneeze. It was impressive really. He’d never seen anyone sneeze with that much intensity, that many times in a row. 

He gestured towards the arch of bright light at the end of the pavement and the pebbled drive beyond. “Go on, then. Get yourself out from under here.” He sighed. He’d have liked to stay a bit. Admire the frothy pink cloud of flowers overhead and listen to the wind making the petals and the leaves whisper to each other. And admire the way the warm light painted James’s winter pale skin with warmth. But they had work to do. And the sneezing would spoil the effect anyway. 

He started towards the manor house, reaching to give James a gentle push, then changed direction. “I’ll catch you up. I just want to take a closer look.” 

The trunks of the cherry trees were neither gray nor quite brown, but a muddy mix of both. What saved the bark from being dull and boring in comparison to the riot of flowers overhead were marks that looked as if someone had taken a sharp knife and cut small, horizontal slashes all over the hard bark. Robbie ran his fingertips over several of the small marks and leaned close. 

Before he got a good look at a small slash where the bark had peeled, showing the darker colored wood beneath, someone grabbed him from behind. Robbie started, then instantly relaxed as he recognized James’s touch. 

James wrapped his arms around Robbie’s waist and pulled Robbie back against his chest. “So it’s romance you want…” James purred in his ear. 

“Going to be nothing romantic about you sneezing in me ear.” Robbie slid his palms along James’s forearms. He glanced quickly as far left and right as he could without making it obvious that he was checking to be sure that there was no one nearby. 

“I’ll try to control myself.” James turned him around with a firm grip on Robbie’s shoulders. 

“Someone might see,” Robbie warned, but his protest was as soft as a spring breeze ruffling cherry blossoms. Most days, he looked in the mirror and told himself that he didn’t care if the truth about them came out. It would, sooner or later, whether they intended or not. That was the way of things in a nick. No secret stayed secret for long. And it would be better, especially for James, if they told it themselves rather than having their relationship discovered by accident. 

Besides…he was tired of obfuscation and concealment. Struck at odd times as they walked into a pub, or down a street, by a longing to pull James’s arm through his or to wrap his arm around James’s waist, and show everyone—friends and strangers alike—that this gorgeous, astonishing man was his. And yet, in those moments of soul searching, there was still sometimes in his reflection a frown of doubt about ‘coming out’. A tiny niggling fear of facing the world as a man in a relationship with another man. 

“There’s no one here,” James whispered and kissed him. 

All of James’s kisses, whether they were sweet and tender, or thrusting and lewd, or sleepy and warm, were irresistible. Even wet from sneezing, James’s lips against his turned his spine to jelly and made his skin burn and his hands gather double handfuls of James’s jacket to draw him tighter. In moments like this, in James’s arms, there was never any doubt about who he was or where he belonged. 

James pressed into him, pushing Robbie until he was sandwiched between the hard trunk of the tree and his warm, solid body. A very insistent length of erect cock nudged at Robbie’s hip, and his body responded, flushing and blooming with eager pleasure despite where they were. 

James kissed him until he was breathless, then dropped soft kisses across Robbie’s cheek to his ear. “If you want romance, I’ll give you romance,” James whispered. He pressed his lips to Robbie’s ear tip and rolled his hips suggestively, searching for and finding Robbie’s answering arousal. His voice dropped an octave. “I’ll do to you what spring does to the cherry trees.” 

Robbie groaned, lost for a moment in the silky, slinky promise in James’s voice. In the press of James’s rigid cock against his own. The heat of James’s hands on his back. The clean, bright scent of James’s skin. Sweaty or clean, hot or cold, James always smelled of sunlight and citrus. And it made him realize that as beautiful as the flowers were, there was no scent from the trees. There was the faint scent of wood, and from nearby, newly mown grass and rich earth. And the heady, intoxicating, addictive scent of James. But no sweet smell of flowers. Something so pink and lovely should smell sweet and dense. Like a combination of candy floss and overripe strawberries. The air should be thick with it. 

As James leaned in for another kiss, Robbie blurted, “There’s no scent!” 

“What?” James drew back, his brow wrinkled with confusion. 

“The flowers… There’s no scent.” 

A grin tugged at the corners of James’s mouth. “So much for my powers of seduction.” 

Robbie felt heat climb up from under his collar. “Sorry. It’s just that… Well, you always smell so good. And—” 

“ _I_ always smell good?” James interrupted. “I seem to remember you telling me a couple of times to go home and take a bath. I believe ‘You stink?’ is what you said the last time.” 

Robbie flushed, remembering another new discovery about himself, that a hot and sweaty James could be as raw and intoxicating as a squeaky clean James. “That wasn’t what I said the _last_ time,” he growled. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot the _last_ time. I mean the time before that.” James grinned at him, impertinent and a bit conceited. “You were saying I ‘always small so good’…” 

Robbie cleared his throat and pushed away the image of a naked, dirty, and sweaty James on a rumpled white sheet. “It made me realize there’s no smell from the trees.” 

James’s grin grew wider. “No, cherry trees don’t have much scent. Some types have a bit, but still not what you’d expect with blooms like that.” He glanced up at the profusion of flowers overhead. Drew in a breath and smothered a sneeze on his sleeve. 

He took a step back and straightened his tie, tugged his jacket down, and jerked his head in the direction of the manor. “Let’s get these interviews done. I’m out of tissues. And I want to take you home.” His changeable eyes sparkled, wicked and blue as slivers of sky seen through pink cherry blossoms. 

Robbie flushed again, but this time, the heat was underneath his shirt. Up his back. Across his abdomen and up his chest. His nipples tightened and the erection that had begun to flag threatened to swell again. He shivered. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

He straightened his tie and jacket, too, and ran his hands over his hair to smooth it, glancing around to make sure they were still unobserved. Then he followed James up the pavement. James slowed for him to catch up, and once they were side by side, he stroked his knuckles against Robbie’s as if by chance. 

For years, they’d walked this way, elbows brushing, shoulders bumping, occasionally even crossing their feet or pushing through a doorway together if they were in a hurry or not watching where they were going, and Robbie had never thought anything of it. 

But the tiny touches weren’t casual or accidental now. He knew that James wanted to hold his hand, and that he was just waiting for Robbie to be comfortable enough to allow it. Robbie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wasn’t quite ready for that kind of public display, but…he knew that would be. One day. Probably never while they were on the job, despite the lapse just now. But soon. 

James smiled at him. 

Robbie bumped James’s elbow gently with his own to acknowledge James’s touch. “What does spring does to the cherry trees, then?” 

James’s grin turned rakish. “Not sure. It’s the last line of a poem by Pablo Neruda. ‘ _I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees’_.” 

Robbie thought a moment. “So you want to make me blossom and turn pink. Then wither and drop me petals. Doesn’t seem very romantic.” 

James rested his hand on Robbie’s shoulder and squeezed. He leaned close and his voice took on that honeyed purr that Robbie would forever after think of as soft as cherry blossoms. “It will be if I do it right.” 

As James pulled away, Robbie caught his hand and squeezed it. And didn’t let go until they were out of the tunnel of cherry blossoms and into the spring sunlight.  
  
###  
  
  



End file.
